


showing search results for giant glowing neon robots

by Bestboiuwu



Category: Tron (Movies), Tron - All Media Types, Tron: Evolution, Tron: Uprising
Genre: Alan voice here is my surrogate son Sam, Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, Dad Alan, Dad Tron, Everyone is traumatized, Pacific Rim - Freeform, That is just sort of how it be when giant Kaiju attack every major city, They might get along, Tron voice Ah here is my surrogate son Beck, nb anon, they/them anon, we come here to vibe, we should schedule a playdate sometime
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:35:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26225029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bestboiuwu/pseuds/Bestboiuwu
Summary: Kevin Flynn, genius software engineer, Pioneer of the ENCOM Jaeger program, designer, programmer and pilot of the single biggest and most successful Jaeger of all time.Sam Flynn, homeless construction worker, college dropout, orphan.That's why Sam doesn't totally get why Alan wants him to come be a pilot so bad.
Relationships: Anon (Tron)/Gibson (Tron), Kevin Flynn & Tron & Clu, Mara/Zed (Tron), Sam Flynn & Quorra & Beck, inventing new relationship tags in the Tron fandom again? you bet your ass I am
Comments: 7
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Found out when writing this that there's actually a surprising amount of pacific rim au Tron fic on ao3, which like, I'm super down for cause I fuckin love both of those franchises, so here's mine! We'll see how far I get, I'm historically not very good at multi-chapter fics.

It was a cold day, up on the wall. As were most days. Sam clenched and unclenched the fingers on his free hand, trying to keep it from losing feeling. His other hand held a welding torch, a shower of sparks taking up the space directly in front of him as he welded support beams together.

The news feed that day had been- bad. It had been bad. That was really the best way of putting it. 

Teams of construction crews had watched as Kaiju, with little to no effort, tore through the coastal wall project- right before they were sent up to work on the very same walls themselves. As a general rule, things were looking pretty shit.

And that's why Sam isn't particularly surprised that, when he finishes his day of work and descends from the wall, Alan Bradley is there waiting for him.

"Hi, Sam."

"Here to play a game of catch?"

Alan smiles, but it's a sad smile, his I'm-about-to-talk-about-something-we-both-do-not-want-to-talk-about-and-am-trying-to-soften-the-blow, smile.

"I think we both know why I'm here, Sam."

He did, but he felt like pushing it. "Enlighten me."

Alan exhales through his teeth. "I want you to come work for me. Become a pilot for the Jaeger program."

whoop, there it is.

"Alan, do we have to do this again? We know how this goes, you give me a speech, I say no, you stop by again next year-"

"There's not going to be a next year, Sam."

Sam blinks. "What?"

"There's not going to be a next year. They're- They're shutting down the program. We're out of time, money, resources-" he takes off his glasses and wipes them on his shirt. "Pilots. You saw what happened in Sydney today, Sam, the wall doesn't work. We're all that's standing between the Kaiju and the world." He puts his glasses back on and makes eye contact, now, such intense eye contact, and god, it's terrible, "The world is ending, Sam. And if you are anything like your father, and I know you are, I've seen you both, such genius little maniacs, you have to help me stop it."

Shit.


	2. Chapter 2

The ride to the base was interesting, seeing as the helicopter was carrying about one (1) more boston terriers than it was supposed to.

When Alan had asked Sam to go get his stuff, he had returned with a duffel bag (a few changes of clothes, his mostly-empty wallet, an extra pair of boots) and his very-excited small dog on a leash. When Alan sees him coming, he stops and stares at the dog.

"His name is Marv."

"Are you… taking him with us?"

"I can't get a sitter."

Alan blinks a few times, then rubs the back of his neck and sighs. "You pulled the same thing when you were ten. Alright, lucky for you I don't think there are any rules against dogs at the base. Nice to meet you, Marv."

Sam spends the helicopter ride with Marv anxiously in his lap, shaking and wailing whenever he got too nervous. Sam is thankful for the display, because it, at least he hopes, keeps Alan from noticing just how nervous sam is himself.

It wasn't his first time on the base. After his father died, Alan had promised to take care of him, and his grandparents, while remaining his legal guardians, were more than ready to admit that the ENCOM headquarters were safer than their coastal home. Sam had spent ages 6-14 living on and off at the ENCOM base with Alan vs. At home with his grandparents.

It isn't until the helicopter lands, and he takes the first shaky step onto the ground, that it hits him just how much he had missed this place.

Alan places a reassuring hand on his back, clearly noticing his… apprehension? Misplaced nostalgia? Sam shakes himself back to reality, and once they're well out of the way of the landing pad he finally sets down Marv, who's been shaking in his arms for the past several minutes.

Alan gives him a brief tour taking him past some rooms he remembers, some he doesn't. He introduces him to some people out and about whos names Sam knows he won't remember, stops and talks to some supply guys about making sure that they add dog food to their list of provisions. A few people mention Sam's father, and every time he gives Alan a Look that Alan immediately picks up on and takes as a cue to politely end the conversation.

It isn't until all of this, all of the mundane pleasantries and the refreshers on where the bathrooms are are done, that Alan finally takes them to see the Jaegers.

The warehouse was huge, the biggest room Sam had ever been in, but then again, it had to be to house what it did.

The metal behemoths span in front of him, taking up more than his entire vision. He has to crane his neck to even try to see their heads.

"They're the only thing here that doesn't seem smaller than I remember it."

Alan laughs. "You're taller. Come here, I want to show you something."

Alan takes him to an elevator, and once at the top leads him across some scaffolding to the other side of the warehouse. Alan smiles and gestures with his arm to the sight in front of them. "There she is."

Sam finds himself, for the first time ever, face to face with Neon Ducati.

Because of course his dad would name his jeager after his bike.

Sam has to take a moment to remember how to make words work. "There she certainly is." He swallows. "How- how did you- she was wrecked."

"She certainly was, but it's easier to resurrect a dead Jeager then build one completely from scratch. She's mostly new parts, but the frame is the same. So's the core."

Alan goes into a bunch of technical jargon, now, that Sam can't quite bring himself to pay attention to. Instead he just stares, right into the visor of the metal monster. The biggest in history. The most successful in history.

His dad's.

Alan walks him back to his qaurters,this time not the more residential rooms from when he was a kid, but a pilot's qaurters. More military. Less obstructions. Where you could be ready to be up and out and in Jeager as soon as physically possible.

"How you liking your first day so far?" Alan asks.

"Good," Sam says, then decides not to lie to him. "It's...a bit overwhelming."

"I'm sure it is." Alan pats his shoulder. "I wish I didn't have to call on you like this, it's...terrible, that all of this has to be your responsibility. But, like I said, we're all that stands between humanity and the end of the world."

"Yeah."

"You're going to do great! If you're anything like your father, you're going to do great."

Sam wasn't so sure he was anything like his father.

They take a moment to make sure that Sam is settled into his new room, before Alan turns to leave.

"Do you need anything else, before I go?"

"No, I think I'm good. Wait, actually, one thing. Who's going to be my copilot?"

Alan blinks. "'Copilot' singular? Haven't you put it together? You have your father's ride."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rettconned the title of Flynn's mech from being "Argon Ducati" to "Neon Ducati", because it makes more sense for the one named Argon to belong to the characters that are actually...from Argon. I'm not the best with coming up wit Jeager names so if you have any ideas feel free to drop em in the comments!


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

Ducati was so big, she needed three pilots.

Historically, these pilots had been three men named Tron, Flynn, and Clu.

Sam's about to meet Tron for the first time, and he's never been so nervous in his entire life.

In what little memories Sam had of his father, he was telling stories. Stories about the men he worked with. Stories about Clu and Tron.

Tron had been badly injured in the same fight that had killed his father, so he had been unable to step in a jeager for years. He had kept busy, though: He was one of the most influential and busy people in the entire organization. Said business was the likely reason Sam had never met him before: he, at least, when Sam was a child, had rarely been at the base. He had been out- talking to world leaders, organizing plans of attack, doing everything he could to keep the Jeager program alive and killing Kaiju.

This was all combined with the way that Sam's father had talked about him: Brave, intelligent, skilled. If you were to ask Kevin Flynn who was the best pilot who ever lived, he likely would've told you Tron.

So of course, when Alan takes him by the shoulder and walks him down a hallway to meet him for the first time, Sam trips over himself like an idiot.

He lands, pretty spectacularly, splayed out flat on the floor, the brunt of the impact going to his hands, knees, and- ow- chin. 

"Sam Flynn, I'm guessing?" Sam looks up, and there he is, the man himself.

This could not have gone worse, Sam thinks.

Alan helps him up, and Sam brushes off his jacket and taps his foot, trying to look calm and collected. He avoids making eye contact, though. Wow. Okay. He's right there. That's. There he is. Been the subject of bedtime stories your entire life and there he is-

"He's certainly inherited Flynn's sense of charm." Alan laughs. "It's good to see you, Tron." 

"It's good to see you too, Alan." The two shake hands and then go in for a hug. While they're distracted, Sam finally works up the nerve to look up and actually take in his surroundings.

Standing, a few feet behind and to the left of Tron, is another man, noticably shorter and younger, he looked to be around Sam's age. He seems decently nervous himself, he's watching Tron and Alan carefully and while he, for the most part, keeps his perfect military posture, if you look carefully his left leg was bouncing up and down.

Mental Note: nervous tick solidarity, Sam thinks.

He turns his gaze to Sam, now, and the two give each other the once-over before he smiles, and a hand goes up for a little wave.

Sam tentatively waves back.

"Do you want me to get you some ice, Sam? That looked like it hurt." Alan asks, and Sam turns him down. With the little Tron-Alan reunion over, Tron's attention finally turns back to Sam.

"It's nice to meet you, Sam. My name is Tron. I worked with your father."

 _Oh, I know_. 

"I've heard that part of Alan's ... _plan_ is to put Ducati back in use,"

'plan'? What's with the emphasis on plan? Is he against this whole idea?

"Granted, you'll need copilots. While finding someone with a pre-existing bond would be preferable for drift compatability, our current options are… limited."

From the way Alan had been talking, that was the understatement of the year.

"This is Beck, my personal prodigy. I've hand chosen him for the job. He already has several years of piloting experience, but the past few years he has found himself... without a partner. I reccomend you two start training together immediately. We have a list of potential co-pilots for you to work from, starting tommorow." Beck, tugs on his sleeve now, like a little kid at playdate. It hits Sam that he and Alan must not seem that different: god, he had even offered him an ice pack like, a minute and a half ago. Two little kids and their babysitters, Sam figures, and Beck, having presumably gotten the okay from Tron, surges forward and offers a hand for Sam to shake.

"I'm Beck. Though, you already knew that. I look forward to working with you."

"Yeah."


	4. Chapter 4

They spend the next 24 hours training, which apparently, ENCOM defines as "hitting each other with giant sticks." Beck, predictably, having several years of military training, kicks Sam's ass.

Sam falls flat on his back for what has to be the fifth time in fifteen minutes. 

"Sorry." Beck says, and offers a hand to help him up.

"I...Do not… understand...what this has to do….with giant robots." Sam says, catching his breath.

"It's not about the combat itself, it's supposed to be a Dialogue. It's supposed to encourage drift compatability."

Sam knew the pitch. He had heard it for the first time when he was twelve. Most things about the Jaeger program, the basics principals, he had learned growing up in the base. It was why he could hold his own at all, and was also  _ presumably _ why Alan wanted him for the job, excluding any nebulous idea of "if you're anything like your father", whatever the hell that meant. That being said, knowing the concept behind it didn't really make hitting each other with sticks any more appealing.

"We'll go again, slower this time." Beck says. "It's my fault it's not working: I'm going too hard on you. We take it from the beginning"

They reset positions, and go back to alternating between strikes, Beck stopping to give pointers on Sam's stance and poses as they went through the motions.

"What if this doesn't work? What if we're not drift compatible?"

"Well shit, that would suck."

Sam lets out an involuntary little scoff that he quickly tries to cover up with a cough. "You're not exactly the most encouraging copilot, are you."

Beck laughs, now, which Sam wasn't expecting.

"Guess not! You should see Tron, most of his pep talks are along the lines of 'and I trust you to make the right decision, because if you don't we'll all die a horrible death.' Water break?"

"God, yes please."

There's a bench on the other side of the room, but Sam just flops down on the mat. Beck grabs two water bottles and tosses them to Sam, before plopping down criss-cross-applesauce next to him. Sam takes a heavy chug of the bottle before taking a breath.

"God. You know what's fucking great? Water. We should all drink so much water all the time." he says, breathlessly, before taking another sip.

"I wholeheartedly agree." Says Beck, taking a long sip of his own. "Hey! There's something! We both love water! Practically drift compatable already!"

It's Sam's turn to laugh, now. "Love water, hate training," Beck shrugs and then gives a little thumbs up in agreement.

"Are the top guys's personal little proteges." Beck says, adding to the list.

"Shit." Sam flops onto his back, looking up at the ceiling. "Yeah."

"That's really why we're together, isn't it? Don't get me wrong, I'm an okay pilot and everything, but I wouldn't be put with  _ the son of Flynn  _ if I weren't Tron's favorite."

Sam lets out a groan, now, long and tired, as he tries to put as much exasperation into it as possible.

"Sorry." Beck says, "I should've figured it was a touchy subject."

"It's fine." Sam sits up now, and pulls himself into a ball, resting his chin on his knees. "I mean, it's not  _ fine _ , but it's fine. You're fine. It's just. It's- It's a lot, the whole dad thing."

"Yeah. I can imagine."

"It's a lot of expectations," he says, "It's not the sort of thing I like to deal with."

Beck exhales through his teeth. "It's gotta suck, all that."

"Yeah. It does."

There's a moment of silence as both of them try to build up the will to say something. Beck beats Sam to it.

"I've lost people too." a hand goes up to his head, and he runs it through his hair a couple times. "My first copilot. His name was Bodhi."

"Oh," Sam says. "I'm sorry."

"Nah, you don't have to apologise. Sometimes the world just kinda shit, y'know?"

"Yeah." Sam knew.

"I think that's honestly why Tron took me under his wing." Beck doesn't make any eye contact. Instead he stretches his arms out in front of him, watching how the muscles move. "Stupid, young pilot. Grieving a partner. I think I reminded him of himself."

Tron's partner. Sam's dad. The recontextualization hurts, a little bit; Sam tried to picture Tron, hurt and sympathetic after losing a friend, or his father, young and energetic like Beck. He has a hard time with both, seeing his childhood idols as  _ people _ , just as real and young and stupid as him. 

"Got a nasty scar out of it, though." Beck's voice tears Sam back to reality. His tone is lighter, now, clearly trying to bring up the mood. "Check it," he says, and lifts up his shirt, showing his left side across his ribs and stomach, which was a harsh and gnarled combination of reds and pinks. "Nasty, huh?"

"Yeah, wow." Sam says. "How did that even  _ happen?" _

"Kaiju ripped through the left side of the hull, grazed me pretty bad. Almost went to blood loss, but hey," he flashes a smile, "Tron says I'm too stubborn to die."

Beck finishes his water and stands back up. "Alright, time to get going. As unbearable as training is, Tron would kick my ass if he knew we were taking this long of a break."

They return to their totally-legit stick fighting. Once or twice, towards the end of the day, Sam actually manages to land a hit, to which Beck responds to with words of encouragement and enthusiasm.

"See, totally drift compatible!" He says at one point. Sam doesn't respond, but he finds the prospect rather encouraging.

When they're done for the day, and they're both leaving, Beck says, "By the way, it will work. Everything will turn out fine."

Sam tries to take the note.


	5. Chapter 5

There are currently five Jeagers in working condition, and with them, their pilots. By the end of the week, Sam has met all of them. He finds the easiest way of categorizing them to be 'people who knew his father' and 'people who didn't.'

Ducati was the only Jaeger big enough to need three pilots, so that meant that aside from Beck and whoever their undetermined third pilot ended up being, there were 8 pilots that Sam had to meet.

The oldest teamup was a man named Jalen and a woman named Radia. They had been first generation pilots, just like Flynn, Clu and Tron had. The two of them walked with a distinct sense of professionalism and poise; a demeanor that was mostly unmatched but the other pilots. Sam has a conversation with them maybe once, and because they new his father (because of course they new his father), it mostly consists of Radia giving her most heartfelt condolences while Jalen stand over her shoulder and glares.

Sam can't decide who to keep eye contact with, Radia, giving her speech about how "Flynn was a great man who will be sorely missed-" or Jalen, giving Sam an intense look that Sam takes to mean "I see right through you, you're not good enough for this job." Sam thinks he prefers the glare.

The next pairing was a father-son team-up, both by the name of Edward Dillinger. Sr. was also a first generation pilot, and also therefore logical new Sam's dad. He, however, does Sam the mercy of not mentioning his dad; instead opting to go on a rant about all of the duties and qualifications required to be an effective pilot, a majority of which is spent not-so-subtley implying that Sam doesn't meet said qualifications and never could. Jr. Is there for most of the rant, and while he doesn't say anything for most of the rant, instead opting to flip through files on his phone, he does chime in once, towards the end of the monologue, when Sr. Says something along the lines of Sam being "an unprofessional delinquent with no prior experience," Jr. says, "Said the same thing about his dad, though." He doesn't look up from his phone when he says it. Sam thinks Sr.'s head might explode.

He meets the other two teams all at once, when Beck invites Sam to eat lunch with him.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, of course I'm sure." Beck says, right as he's finished waving sam over to his lunch table. "Why wouldn't I be sure?"

Sam shrugs. "I dunno. This whole situation just seems very highschool." 

Beck's table certainly isn't empty, and one of the people sitting there, a young woman with swoopy, teal hair, snorts.

"You got that right," she says with a giggle. "Oh my, the drama! Who's table will I sit at? Who will invite me to Kaiju prom?" She swoons dramatically, leaning hard into the program next to her, a lanky-looking dude sporting a bowl cut who's hands won't stop moving as he taps them against the side of the table. "Zed, would you invite me to Kaiju prom?"

"If it's called Kaiju prom, I don't think I'd want anything to do with it." Bowl-cut says, his hands continuing to tap on the table. "...though, if I were going to go with anyone, I supposed I would want it to be you."

Another person at the table, with short, jet black hair and a thoroughly worn green hoodie responds by making a series of gagging noises. "God, keep all of that mushy stuff away from me!" he says. "Can't you two knock it off for like, five seconds"

"Oh, because you and Anon are the definition of subtle." Teal hair fires back, and a fourth, dressed in blue, flushes bright pink.

Beck interrupts with a "Guys. You haven't even introduced yourselves to the new guy. Names? We should do Names. This is Sam! He's my new copilot. Say hi, Sam!

"Hi." Sam says, and gives an awkward little wave.

"I'm Mara." Says teal hair, and she offers a handshake, which Sam accepts.

"God, do we have to do handshakes? I don't like handshakes. I'm not good at handshakes." Bowl cut says. "Yeah, no handshakes. I'm Zed."

The one in the hoodie flashes a smile, and says, "I'm gibson. And this is Anon." He points to the one in blue. Anon's hands move in a manner that looks somewhat familiar, and after a second or two Sam registers it as sign language. "They don't talk much." Gibson continues. "They say it's nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you too," Sam says to Anon, before turning to the rest of the group and saying, "All of you."

"Anon and Gibson are co-pilots, and so are Zed and Mara. Zed and Mara and I were all cadets together, we've know each other for ages. They have what's left of my old ride."

"And she runs better than she ever did when you were in charge of her," Mara fires back. "Zed and I are Mechanics first and foremost, but with the current shortage of pilots, they'll take whoever they can get."

"Yeah, that seems to be what landed me here too."

"Really?" Zed asks. "But you're the So-" Mara elbows him in the ribs. "Nothing! Son of nothing." Sam makes a mental note to thank Mara for the save.

Anon starts signing, and Gibson translates. "I hear you're new to piloting. It can be difficult. I wish you luck."

"Yeah." Sam says. "I'm pretty nervous about it, myself."

"Drifting can be a lot." Gibson says, still translating, before turning his gaze from Anon to Sam and shifting his tone, indicating that he was now speaking his own thoughs. "Honestly, though, I wouldn't worry about it. More freaked out about it you are the more stressful it will be. You just gotta find the right person, y'know?"

"Yeah." Sam says. He hopes that he has. He hopes that he will. He likes Beck, he really does, but between their lack of personal history and their completely undecided third pilot, well. their team seems like it's held together with duct tape and string, at best.

"Of course, it could always not work and we'll all die horribly." Says Zed, and Mara laughs. Sam is starting to get where Beck's sense of humor comes from. Anon gives a little pout at the comment, but doesn't sign anything.

The six of them spend the rest of their lunch together, and it's mostly the five of them joking around while Sam tries to get used to the rhythm of their conversations. Sam likes them a lot more than the older people, he decides, finding some degree of solace in the people that were too young to have ever been around for what Sam was expected to live up to. And, though he'd never admit it, sitting their, at the lunch table, Sam has more fun than he's had in ages. He'd honestly (and once again, he'd never admit this.) Forgotten what it was like to have friends.


End file.
